The first phase of my running triumvirate was complete Saturday, with my buddy Steve leading me through a gentle twelve-miler. Well, it felt fairly challenging at the time, but The Wife was helpful enough to do the math upon my triumphal return home, whereupon I noted with deep shame the sludgy pace of our run. Somehow, it was even slower than when I’m pushing The Girl in the stroller! But my gracious host spoke not a word about this, other than inviting me to infinitesimally increase the pace once we got back to the Memorial Bridge (which I did with great bravado). I was redlining by the time we arrived at the Iwo Jima, and he let me finish with a flourish before I staggered to a stop. Gatorade has never tasted better, nor the satisfying security of a true friend.